Lullaby
by Cristinkn
Summary: Hide finally moves away to start a new life, deciding to not let his depression get a control of it anymore. Kaneki is an artificial half-ghoul, and even though ghouls are more or less accepted now he still has it hard. Specially because of his obsession with cleanliness (and dirty 'food'). Because of college, they are now sharing a room together. Will they get along?
1. Chapter 1

It's annoying, you know.

Having to deal with this, I mean. I wish it could all just disappear. Or maybe, just me. The worst thing about this is that they _know_ I am- I am..._like this_ but they _still_ do this kind of shit, and I can't help but think they do it in purpose.

"None of you help me in the house. None of you." My mother complains. Today is her birthday, so we're going to eat in a fancy restaurant in her car. "I _always_ have to do the work. You guys wait for me to tell you to do your responsibilities, and that's not how it's supposed to be."

Yeah, mom. We never help. Me and my sister are just good-for-nothings who just go to school to warm up the chairs, and when we get home we like to piss you off just for the fun of it.

"And did you ate the cake your dad bought me? It was small. Did you kids ate the whole cake?" She asked, her voice growing louder, annoyed.

"Why would we eat the whole cake?" I roll my eyes. "We ate a _piece_. That's all." My voice is low, and kinda shaky.

It always gets like this when we fight. I hate it.

"Hideyoshi Nagachika," My mother looks at me from the rearview. She's glaring at me, I can tell even though I'm staring at the window. "Don't answer back. Careful, eh. Or I'll hit you so hard it'll break your mouth."

Then why don't you do it? Huh, mom?

"And you too, Haru. Both of you are so disrespectful."

I don't see my sister's face. My eyes are closed, so the tears forming inside cannot be seen.

I hate this. I hate all of this.

After a couple of minutes of silence, my mom decides to speak. "How was school, Haru?" She asks, all too sweet.

Annoying.

"It was great, mom!" She says, all too cheerful, like nothing's wrong. Annoying.

"I'm glad, I'm glad." My mom laughs, like it's funny. So, so annoying. "How about you, Hide? Bet you were laying in bed all day." She laughs again. My sister joins.

Annoying, annoying.

"It was okay." I answer, my eyes closed.

"Look at me while I'm talking, Hide." She says in response. Yeah, okay, mom. I'll stare at the reflection of your eyes in the rearview so you don't think I'm _so_ disrespectful.

Lazily, I open my eyes.

"Mom, are health and phys ed the same?" My sister asks, all of a sudden.

"No, they are not."

"But that's what it says in my schedule."

"Then your schedule is wrong. Talk to the counselor about it."

"I did and she said it's the same."

"It's not. They probably messed it up."

"But-"

And that's when I take my headphones and start listen to the loudest song I have in my playlist. Just hearing their voices right now annoys me.

I stare at the window, and this all reminds me of the cliche anime protagonist sitting next to the window in class. I mean, I have the looks. Orange, spiky hair. Always eating meat. Sleeping in a weird way. I'm loud.

Oh yeah. Have I said it? I'm weeabo trash.

Also I don't like to read. But there's one book I would read again and again and I would never get tired of it. It's 'The Perks of being a Wallflower', and it's my favorite book as you can see. It's about this boy, Charlie, writing letters to the reader about his life. He is a loner, quiet, friendless boy. He is the target for bullying, but he just ignores it. One day, he meets two persons that become their friends. Suddenly, he doesn't feel alone anymore. But the emptiness is still there, you know? One day, he confesses his best friend killed himself. The others? Left him. As the book goes on, and more details of Charlie's life is revealed, he realizes something.

There's something inside of him that tells him to follow his best friend's steps.

What I adore about this book? It's the way it's written. And the story - it's so beautifully developed.

It helped me while I was hospitalized.

You see, I'm kinda like Charlie. I kinda have no friends. I kinda don't remember much of my past. I kinda hate myself.

I kinda want to die.

I started therapy in eighth grade, when the gym teacher told my mom that the 'asthma attacks' I had during class were not that, but panic attacks.

Since then, it was like a roller coaster.

Group therapy was okay. I mean, everyone shared their story - and to be honest? It made me fall to my knees, crying. They needed all the help they could receive. But me? I had no tragic past. I told you, I don't remember much of it. Just, blurry images that don't mean anything. So, I didn't know what to say besides 'I want to die'.

Oh, and you can imagine what kind of chaos it caused in my family. 'Why do you want to do that?' 'Why are you depressed?' 'Why don't you just snap out of it?' 'You are breaking the family apart.' Blah, blah, blah.

I heard it all too often. And, as you can guess, it did not help at all.

In ninth grade, I started taking medicine. My life consisted of prozac and vistaril. One for depression, the other for anxiety.

I don't know if it helped, to be honest with you.

I was _still_ friendless, but I had people I talked to. They knew my name and who I was - the cheerful guy with spiky hair who sits at the end of every class.

If only the first part was true at all times.

Oh but don't get me wrong. Life wasn't always hell. My mom loves me, I know that for sure. We had troubles every now and then, but I still loved her. I still do. There are just times when I wish she could understand what's going on inside my head, you know?

Things were okay for a while, and then it went downhill again. It was a cycle.

In tenth grade, I was hospitalized for the first time. I can remember it clearly. I was in my therapist's office, sobbing, telling him I was having a horrible, horrible day and the feeling of wanting to die only got stronger by the second.

He asked if I had any plans.

I said yes. Really, what came to my mind was just overdosis. I had access to pills, so I could just take them, and I would be _gone_. One problem is, as much as I wanted to do it, I couldn't hurt my family like that.

Then, he called my mom in. He told her what was going on. As you can imagine, she kept herself composed until we got to the car. She started crying, and I was afraid of my life. I thought she was going to hit me like she used to.

But she didn't.

She drove me to the hospital, in emergency, and the day after I was send to a psychiatric hospital. I was there for about a month.

When I was discharged, my family cried. I didn't. I spent all of what was left of it in my hospital bed.

Things were okay that year.

In eleventh grade, I was taking a stronger dosis. By then, I have tried different kinds of pills, but I couldn't find the right one.

One day, my dad came home drunk.

For the first time ever, he slapped me. I wasn't expecting it, you know. I greeted him like always. I went to give him a hug like always. I was going to say 'Welcome home' like always. But he just straight out rejected me, saying I was annoying. So, I went to the kitchen, searching for a knife.

I was hospitalized a second time.

When I was a senior, things were sort of okay. I was still feeling miserable, but I had more or less gotten used to it. I could act my part and almost no one discovered my secret.

Now, it's time for college. And, surprise surprise, I am going to study psychology.

Mostly for myself, really. I just want to find a cure to all this madness, and prevent other people from going through it. Or, at least, help them get through it.

After the trip to the restaurant, my family saw I was sad so they tried to cheered me up. I appreciated their efforts, so I faked a smile. As long as they don't know.

Night fell, the other day began. I was quite excited, really. Going to college and stuff. I could start over, you know? Far, far away from this old town.

The room was nice.

I had already taken care of where I was going to stay. This dude was looking for a roommate so I just went for it. Besides, when I talked to him, he was _so_ nice. Shy, but cute.

Oh yeah, one more thing.

I prefer boys over girls.

My family…_sort_ of knows. I mean, I told them. And they were like 'okay' but they told me I was too young to know.

Yep. Twenty years is not enough for them. But, hey, it's whatever, you know? I have already given up trying to explain it to them.

So anyways, about this guy. He is just a _couple_ of inches short (which makes me incredibly happy because that means I can be the senpai here), has white fluffy hair, uses gloves, and always wears dull clothes.

He is pretty cute, what can I say?

Whatever happens, I hope we can be friends. I really hope we'll get along, you know?

Oh and by the way, his name is Kaneki Ken.

Yeah, like that western masculine form of Barbie.

Still cute though. Still cute.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **And so this is how I cope with life.

Hope something good comes out of it ;A;

Have a great day!


	2. Chapter 2

I like it when things are _clean_.

That includes myself. And other people. I just- I can't stand being _dirty_. I just can't. Which can be a problem when you are a ghoul.

A half ghoul.

An _artificial_ half ghoul.

But life is hard for me even if I wasn't into cleaningness.

Let me explain this. In our society today, ghouls have rights as any other human being. But, as you can imagine, not many agree with that. So...we don't really fit in. Oh, there's also the thing about the food. People are required _by law_ to give their bodies, when dead, to the CCG. Which, will give to us. That way, there aren't murders.

Right?

Not really. There are still some ghouls out there doing it the old way, which adds more hate towards us. But I guess it was bound to happen.

We just can't help it. But...it's not like humans would understand.

Ah, humans. I used to be one before.

It had to be done.

You see, these kinds of experiments started back when Hitler was alive. They used all the ones in concentration camps for them. But right now, we don't use them for that cause. Doctors change people, when their lives can't be saved.

I got into a pretty serious accident, and if it wasn't for the ghoul involved in it, I wouldn't have survived.

I was pretty shocked at first, as anyone would. But I received therapy and all that stuff needed.

And then...another incident happened. I happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. I was kidnapped along with other people. My attackers were ghouls, looking for revenge against humans. They killed the ones who were with me, but they kept me alive. Why? I was half human, so instead of killing me - they tortured me.

Long story short, I was able to escape because they didn't needed me anymore. They realized there was no one waiting for me at home so no one would miss me.

In a way, they were right.

Luckily it was just when I finished high school, so I had time to adjust. I decided to go to college as planned, so I rented my room for money issues. Even though the thought of someone else touching my stuff or making a mess of the room makes me sick...

Which is when I met this guy.

We were talking, and then just when he was about to leave…

"Hey," He said, walking towards the door.

"Yeah?" I asked him, with a smile.

"Do you get it treated?"

"Eh?" I blinked a few times. "Get what treated?"

"Your mysophobia." He said, turning around. "It seems pretty bad."

"Wh-" I was at loss.

"I mean, just from looking at this place. And you, even." He said, matter-of-factly. "Ah, but don't worry. I'm very clean, so uh, I don't mind this. But I'm kinda worried, you know? I think it'd be better for your sake if you get it treated." Without waiting for an answer, he turned around, and opened the door. "So I'll see you later!" And with that, he left.

_First of all_, I don't have that. I'm not sick.

Second of all….how could he tell?

Was it that obvious? I mean...not that I have it…

But, I mean, other people would of noticed, right? So why him all of a sudden? He's very...perceptive…

I don't know if this is a good thing or bad thing, but I'll just go with my gut on this.

I guess I have a new roommate now.


	3. Chapter 3

"Yo! Kane- oh my god, what the fuck." I suddenly hear someone say as he opens the door. Shit.

I turn around, with the toy in hand, and a shocked expression. I fucked up. Come on. It's only been a week since he moved here.

"H-Hideyoshi...uh...this...this is not what it looks like…"

"Yeah…it does not like there's lots of decapitated dolls on the floor. Oh, and one in your hand too." He is smirking. "You are into _some kiny shit_, huh?"

"Wh-" I shake my head so fast I feel like I might join the toys' destiny. "I just...um…"

"Dude, it's alright. I'm openminded, ya know?" He walks towards me and sits beside me, on my bed.

"I just...it's not that…" I sigh, defeated.

He laughs a bit. "Chill. I was kidding. But...it'd be nice if you explain to me what you were doing to all these innocent dolls."

I bring my left hand to my chin, scratching it. "It's an habit I have."

"Huh." He nods. "In exchange, I'll tell you a secret."

"Oh, okay."

He leans, whispering. "I'm a weeabo."

I jump slightly. "You…"

"Yeah."

"...Oh my god."

"Yeah…"

"I can't believe this...it's my first time seeing an otaku, holy shit." I look at him in awe.

"You know what that means, right?" He says, smirking.

I shake my head.

"It means...that you _have_ to watch anime with me from now on."

"Wh- I-" I fake being scared. "Oh no, anything but that."

"Sorry, the rules are the rules. Now you'll suffer with me."

I laugh, enjoying myself. Maybe this wasn't so bad after all.

"Oh yeah," He says, as he takes out something from his pocket. "When you went out, you dropped your wallet. So here." He shows me my wallet, which is wrapped with toilet paper.

Oh no.

"It's okay, I didn't touch it." He reassures me.

He says he didn't….but still…

"Kaneki?" He waves a hand in front of my face. "You okay?"

I feel sick. "Yeah...um...can...can you take out...what's inside, please?"

He nods, cutting some of the paper and with that taking out all of what's in. "There."

I stand up and open a drawer, taking out a plastic bag from there. I take the money and all the identifications inside the bag, and place it on top of my drawer.

"Everything alright?" He asks, worried.

"Yeah." I nod, swallowing a lump in my throat.

He looks down, and starts playing with his hands. I guess I made this awkward.

I see him stand up and walk towards me, then, with a piece of toilet paper he takes out a card from inside his pocket. "I work in this clinic." He says. "I'm a psychology student, but I'm already working. I help around and stuff. You know, learning to be a counselor some day. And, well, I was wondering if...you'd want me to help you with this problem you have."

What?

"I won't charge you, by the way. Since you helped me moving here and stuff. Besides you told me you were tight on money, right? So let me help you with this."

Why...why would you help me?

"This…" I'm looking down. "This...is not...any of your business…"

I stare down at the floor - I'm too afraid to see his expression. It's me who rejected him but…

"Can you please take off your gloves?"

I look up. "Eh?"

"Please take off your gloves." He repeats.

"Why…?"

"You'll see."

Hesitating a bit, I take them off, revealing wounds all over my hands. Maybe it's because he's an expert, but I feel it's okay to show him this.

Please don't laugh at me.

"As I thought," He begins. "Injuries from washing your hands too much, right?"

I don't answer.

He takes in air. "Please, let me help you."

"Why? Because you're desperate for someone to fix?" I look at the other side, avoiding his eyes. "I'm not broken, you know."

"That's not what I meant. I know you are struggling, so I want to help. I know I can. So please, let me."

It makes me look back at him, questioning him. This guy…

"If I let you…" I fold my arms. "What would happen?"

"Exposure therapy." He said. "That's the treatment."

"So basically…making me do things I don't want to do. Right?"

"Yes."

He's so blunt. "Do I have a choice? I mean, you are living with me now."

"I won't force you to do anything you don't want to. But, I want to let you know that it can get easier."

"How?" I snap. "Is that what you say to all the patients? That 'it gets better', when actually, it doesn't?" I'm getting louder. "What do you know? Tell me, have you ever felt like you were drowning in your own thoughts? Like you can't breathe...like all you think about when something gets too unbearable is-"

"Death?" His voice is surprisingly low.

Taken a bit back, I sigh. "Yeah."

There's silence between us for a moment. I know he wants to tell me something, so I don't move. Finally, he opens his mouth again. "Let me show you something." Slowly, he pulls up his sleeves.

I let a gasp escape my mouth at the sight of all those deep scars across his arms.

"I did this, to myself, years ago." He admitted, still talking low. "I was trying to kill myself back then."

Suddenly, a rush of guilt and sadness overwhelms me. I bit my lip to keep from talking.

"I understand, you know? That feeling. I get it. I still have it."

Is that why you want to help me? Do I remind you of yourself?

Collecting myself, I approach him. "How about we make a deal?" My eyes don't leave his. "You help me with my mysophobia, and I help you with your depression."

He looks surprised for a second, but then it changes to a smile. "Fair enough." It seems he hesitates to do something, but then-

"Deal?" He says, as he stretches his hand for me to shake it.

Panic takes over. I can't- his hand. I don't have my gloves on. What do I do?

I stare at it, not knowing what to do.

"When you have to touch other people, it's usually with your gloves on, right?" He asks.

"Y-Yeah…"

"Do you think this is something you can do?"

"...Can I wash my hands afterwards?" My voice is almost a whisper.

"Nope."

"I…" It's difficult to breathe. "I don't think….I can do it…"

"My hands are not dirty." He tells me. "It's okay, you know? Say it. It's okay."

I inhale deeply to calm my nerves. "I-It's….okay…it's okay…" I bring my hand up, but I stop midway. "It's okay, it's okay…"

But what if germs get in through my wounds?

No. No, it's not dirty. It's perfectly fine, so I can do it. It's not that bad, right? So I should be okay. What's the worse that could happen? I'm not going to die…

Quickly, I take his hand and shake it, and then I put it inside my pocket.

He blinks a couple of times, but then smiles. "See? You did it."

"Y-Yeah...I guess…" It feels disgusting, though.

"How about we start when I get back from shopping?" He asks, cheerfully.

"Oh. Um, o-okay. If that's fine with you." I grab my gloves and put them back on.

"Oh, and next time you touch something without your gloves, don't put them back on right away."

"Oh." I look at my hands, feeling a bit embarrassed. "Sorry."

"Nah, it's okay. You are just starting. So, I'll be right back, kay?" He smiles at me as he checks his pockets for keys.

"Okay." I feel a bit more calm now.

See? It wasn't that bad. Now I get the money I need _and_ I get treatment. I think I can handle having a human roommate.

"Oh, and have you eaten yet?" He asks, looking around for something.

"Oh, um," Today actually it's time for my meal. I almost forgot. "You don't have to buy me anything…"

"Nah. You can't eat that crap anyways, right?"

What.

"W-What do you mean…?" Did he-

"You are a ghoul, right?" He says it as if it wasn't a big deal.

"I'm- I- I'm not-" I can't find the right words.

This isn't happening.

"It's okay, man. It doesn't freak me out or anything." He's still looking for something. "Now, where did I left my shopping list…"

"How…" I can barely talk. Shit. "How do you know?"

"Hm? Oh, well, your fridge it's empty. I haven't seen you eat any food this week and everytime I invite you something you say you are full. So, I figured, it must be a pain to pretend so why not just say it out loud?"

This person...is way smarter than I thought...

Or actually, I'm pretty dumb.

"I-I see…" It's too early in the morning for this, I can't believe it.

"Don't worry, though. I'm cool with all that. But like, just- don't eat in front of me or stuff."

"N-No!" I blur out. "No, of course not!"

"Alrighty then. See? No problems." He shows me a thumbs up. "So, we cool?"

How can he be so calm after learning that fact?

"Sure…"

"Alright!" He grins. "Well, I'll be going now. I found my list. See ya!" And with that, he was gone.

Just. How do I get myself into this kinds of things.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Thanks for reading!


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